Chapter Text
“Clown name?” She asked, her car keys twirling in around her finger.
He paused for a few seconds, as if he was debating on the name. She could only see his eyes since the clown mask — Impressive. She’ll give him points for the level of commitment. — was covering the whole of his face. He chose a mask that none of the other clowns had either.
“Chatterbox.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re quite the chatterbox?”
She had called him that twice. Both times were not as herself. Or well, not as Hiccups at least. Did he know that she was Ray Mond? Did he find out?
“Interesting,” She said cautiously. The both of them stood there in the idle lane, the street behind them bustled with cars and locals, filling the silence in between their words. “How’d you come up with that?”
“I…I got called that by,” He paused. By her? “By someone and she made me realize that there are times where I don’t shut up and I probably should have.”
She nodded, not saying much more. “I agree with her. Whoever she is.”
Hiccups unlocked the door of her Club and motioned for him to get in the passenger’s. “Hop in then, Mr. Box. We’ve got a big day ahead.”
He followed her suit and slid into the seat beside her and she started the car. The Club was a smaller car than he was used to. It was only a two seater, but he tried to run from the cops once with a club and it got through the tighter corners. It was painted black but had a red pearlescent hue, with blue outlines of flames airbrushed on the sides. Revving up the engine, she pulled out of the Apartment parking lot and drove off to the direction of a gas station.
“Glovebox.” Her voice broke the silence, or broke over the loud buzzing of the car.
“Chatterbox.” He corrected her. A laugh escaped her lips. The sound echoed in his ears.
“No, you idiot,” She glanced at him, her eyes forming crescents. She was genuinely amused. A free hand motioned to the glove compartment. “Check the glovebox.”
The car swerved to the left and his body leaned in with the force. He pulled the compartment handle and when he opened it, a small notebook and a miniature ‘Spin the Wheel’ game piece rattled inside. Grabbing both items, he noticed the wedges were labeled with different activities like ‘Lockpick a Cop Car’, ‘Prank Call 5 Strangers’, ‘Hide ‘n Seek @ Funhouse’, ‘Who’s the Snit?”, and a few more.
“Lockpick a cop car?” He looked at her, holding up the notebook, about to flip through it.
”Ah ah,” She objected. His fingers halted. “Spin first. Whichever the wheel lands on, is what we do. Y’know, clown stuff. Don’t worry…nothing’s too…illegal.”
The last word wasn't said with much conviction. Lockpicking a car didn’t seem like the most legal of hobbies. Jagger sat up in the seat, gently spun the wheel and watched as the colors blended together for a few seconds before it slowed again.
“Prank call?” He read out loud, the buzzing of the Club continued to ring in his ears. He flipped to the designated page. Yuck, this car is so loud.
“Look through the Lemon List and select 5 people to pull a prank call on.” He looked at her and realized that they had already pulled up to a gas station with an available pay phone. She parked the car and got out. “I uh, I don’t know how to do stuff like this.”
“You’re telling me,” She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall next to the pay phone. “That you never did prank calls as a kid? Never once tried to fuck with someone on the phone, just to say ‘Sike! I was kidding, have a good day’?”
“My childhood…wasn’t the best and most comforting of memories,” He admitted. She broke the eye contact they made and looked off in the distance. Something they had in common. To say that she was given a comfortable upbringing was being far too generous.
“Join the club,” She muttered. Memories of her crying—begging—for it to all stop while her father threw every appliance within reach at the walls, windows and doors, replayed in her mind. She knew deep down that he was a good man, but sometimes a good man doesn’t make a good father. At least, not to her or her brother. All they had was each other and that was enough for them. A moment passed between them before she regained her composure. “There’s a first time for everything. Just put on a voice or something if you’re worried someone would recognize your voice. Be as silly or as serious as you want to be. Maybe pretend to threaten them, say you’ll kidnap them if they don’t do this. You’re a gang banger, no? Surely you’ve threatened someone before.”
“A voice? What kind of voice?”
“The clowniest of voices you can think of, Chatterbox.” A playful tone hinted in her reply. “And I’ll even lower it to one phone call, since this is popping your prank call cherry. And you seem quite overwhelmed—”
“Alright, settle the yuck down,” He rolled his eyes as he chuckled and picked up the phone attached to the cord, resting it between his shoulder and his ear. The dial tone hummed as Jagger eyed her once more and she nodded in reassurance. He looked through the Lemon List and scanned for a name.
“I triple dog dare you to prank call Mr. K.” Hiccups smirked as she saw his finger stop scrolling through the numbers.
“I’m convinced you want me to either get arrested or killed by the leader of my gang,” He shot back, looking at her incredulously. She pushed herself off the brick wall and stood closer to him.
Not just by your gang leader, She thought. But he didn’t need to know that.
“Oh, c’mon.” She put her hands on her hips, walking behind him then around him, circling him as he stood. “You’re not scared of a silly, old dragon, are you?”
“Okay, first of all, K is neither silly or old,” She gave him the ‘are you kidding me’ look. “Okay, maybe he’s…aged. But the man’s not silly. If you look up definition—
“I don’t read.” She interjected, which only received a sigh in response and made her huff out in amusement. She really enjoyed pushing his buttons. “Chop chop, get to chatting, Chatterbox.”
“I’m going to regret this,” He punched in the phone number and placed the headset to his ear as it started ringing. She straightened her posture in victory, crossing her arms. Hiccups began to walk in circles around him and his eyes followed her, as if she was trying to hypnotize him. It almost worked until the ringing halted and he heard K’s voice.
“Hello?”
He cleared his throat. “Well well well,” He changed his tone to be higher pitched, bobbing slightly at the end of each sentence. “I see you’re still…breathing, you old sack of ashes. How unfortunate.”
“Who the fuck is this?” K questioned assertively. He made eye contact with Hiccups, who had stopped her almost predator-like pacing. She nodded, encouraging him to continue.
“That’s not important right now,” Jagger returned his attention back to the phone call. “What is important is that you listen very…carefully. We know, alright? We know everything about your little gang’s secret warehouse, where you’re keeping all your guns, all of your super secret blueprints…well I guess it’s not secret anymore. It’d be a shame if all of it just…ended up in police possession.”
“Listen here, you fucker,” He could hear K seething from the other side of the line. He’d admit it, it was funny yucking with K like this. Because if he was himself right now, he’d be dead by the time he hung up. “I don’t know how or who told you, but you have no fucking idea who you’re dealing with. One word and your fucking head would be in my hands before you could even blink.”
“Your boys do be talking mighty loud and word gets around with the Clowns pretty quickly,” He saw Hiccups’ head tilt at the mention of the Clowns, but she didn’t look mad. She looked…curious.
“So you’re a fucking clown, huh?”
“Can’t confirm nor deny, you old bag,” If K ever found out…but right now, he was having too much fun yucking with him.
“You give me your fucking name or the name of the red nosed, masked freak that gave you this information, and maybe I’ll let you live until dinner,” He demanded, he was getting impatient and Jagger knew it. K was a lot of things, but a bad gang leader was not one of them. His priorities were always involving the best interest of Chang Gang. Whether it looked formidable to an outsider’s (or even insider’s) point of view.
He debated on a name. If he gave his clown name, then the risk of K finding out he prank called him and pulled all this bullyuck, he’d be actually dead. So he gave the first name of the Clown that came to mind.
“Yappy,” He heard Hiccups let out a snort and he saw her turn away from him, her shoulders bouncing up and down. “Anyway, tick tock, tick tock. This new information makes me itchy to snit.”
He hung up the phone before K could threaten him more. Jagger let out a sigh of relief. Hiccups faced him again, her eyes formed crescents. She started slow clapping.
“Very impressive, Mr. Box,” She laughed. He felt quite proud of himself, if he were to be completely honest with himself. It was thrilling. “Name dropping Yappy was very Clown of you, I’m proud.”
“He was the only one I could think of,” He nervously rubbed the back of his neck. She shook her head.
“Don’t worry about it,” She playfully patted his shoulder. “He’s our resident punching bag. He even holds the record for most ocean dumps in…well, in the city. I’m pretty sure he has a monthly or even weekly quota for ocean dumps.”
They shared another lighthearted laugh as they walked back to the car.
“Spin spin spin!” She said, turning the car back on, the buzzing of the engine drowned out other thoughts as he spun the wheel again. The two of them watched it slow to a stop.
“Lockpick a cop car,” He looked at her and could tell she was smiling, almost excited that it landed on that option. “You’re really trying to get me arrested, aren’t you?”
She put the car into Drive and pulled out of the convenience store lot, towards the MRPD at the center of the city. Her laugh echoed through his entire body, sending an alert signal to his brain. Stop.
“You only get arrested if you’re washed,” Hiccups challenged him. “Are you washed, Chatterbox?”
“No yuckin’ way.” He confidently responded.
“We’ll see about that.”
The rest of the drive, all 10 minutes of it, they spent getting to know each other better. There was still clear and obvious hesitance on both of their parts to share certain details. But they did learn that they both hated onions and were quite fond of the color red. They even bantered about who gets to keep it as their favorite color, a discussion to be continued because they arrived at Legion Square Park. It was better to park away, in case they needed a getaway car. Jogging to the building, the timing of a police car pulling out of the underground lot was almost comedic to her. She had given him a new Lockpick before they left the car. They hoped one was parked outside already with no one around, but that plan was now out the window. Luckily, they had a backup. Their plan was for her to get the cop out of the car and distract them while he picks the car.
“Are you sure you can distract the cop?” If she wasn’t having a good time with the guy, she probably would have been more offended at his lack of confidence in her.
“Please,” She scoffed, locking the car door. “Have you seen me? You’d be surprised at how many people have tried, only to get turned down.”
Yeah, I have seen you, he thought. And it’s bothering the yuck out of me. But I can’t tell if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.
“A little confident, aren’t we?” He fell in step with her. He knew she was, just by the way she carried herself. He noticed a lot of things about her with the little time they’ve spent together. Like how her eyes formed upside down crescent moons when she found things amusing through her mask, how she just started humming songs subconsciously when it got quiet, how her laugh just lit up his whole soul. Stop it. Don’t.
“Mhmm.”
He strayed from her as they grew closer to the police rover, parked idly. He watched her as she tapped on the tinted window.
“Hi, Offiper!” She greeted, cheerfully. He chuckled at her from afar. “I was wondering if you could help me with something.”
“Hiccups,” The cop rolled down his window. He wasn’t familiar with all the new cops yet, but he’s seen this yuckbag around before. A real pain in his yuck. Tyler or whatever his stupid name was. “How can I help you, gorgeous?”
He was already annoyed. Because he didn’t particularly like Peters.
“Oh, Tyler!” She replied, her tone turned soft, almost flirtatiously. However, there was a hint of strain. His jaw twitched. “I was wondering if you could do something for me.”
“And what’s that?”
He tuned out the remainder of their conversation because frankly, if he listened to more, he might’ve ended up jabbing the lockpick in this guy’s jugular. The next thing he saw was him getting out of the car and walking with her to the main entrance of the station, leaving the car unattended. He quickly snuck up to the car and slid into the driver’s seat. He had attempted to pick a cop car before, but it didn’t end too well for him. He probably should’ve told her that his track record for this wasn’t too good.
Taking a deep breath, Jagger leaned over and began to crank the lockpick into the keyhole. The first turn was easy enough as he heard a click. The second wasn’t as smooth sailing. His hands began to clam up and he bit the inside of his lip in focus.
“C’mon,” He mumbled to no one in particular, but himself. His finger nearly slipped and lost the grip. “Yuck.” He looked up to see them standing at the top of the stairway, Peters standing a little too close for comfort.
Not that he cared. He just hoped she wasn’t too uncomfortable with the lack of space between them.
He got a sudden burst of urgency to finish picking and completely locked in. A little to the left, back to the right…one more turn….click.
Bingo.
Jagger saw her look at him subtly enough so that Tyler didn’t see and he gave her a nod. She straightened herself and he turned on the car. That caught Peters’ attention and he seemed too stunlocked to react in time.
He rolled down the windows in time to hear Hiccups say, “Well, as riveting as this conversation about your cock is, I believe my date is waiting for me in our lovely chariot. Until next time, sweetheart.”
She briskly skipped down the steps, Peters finally registering what was happening and started to go after her. Jagger pulled up closer to her so that she could get in before he reached her. She hopped in and he put pedal to the metal, their bodies pushed back against the seats with the sudden force. Their laughs mixed together as they zoomed around the corner and down Vespucci, away from the station.
“You had me worried there for a second,” She admitted, after they calmed down. He gave her a glance.
“No faith in my lockpicking abilities, huh?”
“No,” She shook her head. Looking through the glovebox and other compartments accessible to the passenger’s side. “I was just worried that I had to keep listening to Tyler Peters for another minute about his cock.”
“Excuse yuckin’ me?” He nearly stepped on the brake. She giggled.
“His chicken.”
“But he calls it a c—you know what? Never mind. That guy’s an actual yuckin’ freak,” Jagger gripped the steering wheel.
“Aren’t we all?”
It didn’t take long at all before they heard the wailing of sirens grow closer to them. His eyes focused on the rear view mirror and she turned her body so she could see outside the back window. Her scent drifted to his nose and he realized she smelled like jasmine and a hint of honey. Or was it vanilla? Out of the corner of his eye, he could slightly see her face from the side of her bunny mask. He had yet to actually know what she looked like. All the times they had met, she never took off the mask once.
Eyes back on the road, he pressed the gas pedal and the speedometer radar moved higher.
“I hope you’re a good driver,” Her voice filled with excitement and adrenaline. “They’re hot on your ass, Chatterbox.”
Challenge accepted. It didn’t take him long at all to create more distance between them and the 3 other police cars trailing behind them. Going 120, he took a gap in the highway barriers, causing them to fly to the road below the overpass. She screamed out a laugh, the feeling of flying tickling her stomach and her toes. The car screeched as they landed and he made a right turn. A cop car had overturned and was flipped behind them. The rip of the engine resonated through the concrete as Jagger took an exit, headed back towards the Vespucci Canals. He was familiar with the layout of that neighborhood. He just wasn’t too confident in how much legroom a police vehicle would have in the tight corners. Her Club definitely would’ve been a more ideal car for the canals.
He turned off of San Andreas Avenue to Prosperity Street and began to bob and weave the car to the best of his ability. He was right about the car being too bulky on some turns, which slowed them down. Another vehicle pulled out from the driveway and caused them to crash into an adjacent pole, temporarily boxing them in.
“Get out,” He called out to her, already hearing the sound of her seatbelt unlocking. “I hope you’re good at parkour!”
The two of them made a break for it towards the back of the houses, ignoring the objecting commands of the officers. The sounds of their footsteps stomping on the ground combined with the sirens. He was ahead of her and every now and then he would look over his shoulder to make sure she was still there. She tried to keep up as her big stomper boots were less than ideal for a foot chase. They leaped over a cement wall gating the front of the house from the edge of the water. A police officer caught up with them because they had taken the other route and unfortunately ran into their path.
“Don’t move or else,” He held up his taser gun, aimed at the two Clowns. “You fucking Clowns, don’t move!”
“Oh yeah? Or else what?” She mocked the officer. Hiccups turned to Jagger. “Meet me at the old Burger Shot building across the street.” Her voice was hushed so that only he could hear.
“What?” He looked at her, incredulously. She wasn’t suggesting they split up, was she?
“Try to find another car, bike, whatever,” She said quickly, eying the officer still posted up and aiming for them. A getaway. “And wait for me by the little Burger Shot alley.”
Strange how she didn’t even have any doubt in her voice that he would go behind her back and just make a break for it, leaving her behind. Before he could protest about how this wasn’t a good idea to her, she made a run for it onto the bridge connecting one side of the neighborhood to the other. The officer yelled after her, barking comms into his radio. It was as if his legs also kicked into autopilot and he booked it towards the abandoned burger joint. Another officer called out behind him, but their protests were met with deaf ears. Leaping and jumping over bushes and gates, he managed to dodge two more cops and he pressed himself against the sidewall of a burnt orange house complex. The officers had no idea and they simply ran past where he was hiding. Minutes passed and he decided the coast was clear. Making his way to the meeting spot, the old Burger Shot—which he now found out was just a mere construction site instead of an actual restaurant—he pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts list. He found her name and pressed ‘Call’. The ringing lasted a whole minute before her voicemail answered instead.
“Yuck,” He huffed. Jagger climbed to the top of the ‘building’ and scanned the area for Hiccups. The police sirens and cars were still within earshot so there was still a chance they hadn’t gotten her.
He was proven wrong almost immediately because he finally spotted her. Cuffed. She stood near the water’s edge with two different cops standing beside her, most likely interrogating her.
Well, she’s a goner. A little voice in his head said. I should just dip…but the way she was confident that I wouldn’t just leave her…
Would he?
He heard the sound of a motorcycle approaching the stoplight at the corner of the street. Jagger glanced between the local on their bike and Hiccups on the other side of the canal.
“Yuck it,” He leaped off the scaffolding he was standing on and ran towards the bike. Shocked at a stranger approaching, the local yelped as he swung his fist—knocking them out—and taking the bike. Completely ignoring the fact that the light was still very much red, he straddled the vehicle and raced to where she was standing.
The present officers looked at him as he approached on the bike and she also seemed surprised he came back for her.
“Get out of the area,” Officer Jimbo commanded him. He slowed the motorcycle to a stop near them, using his leg to balance the weight.
“I’m just here to pick up my date, Dumbo,” Jagger shot back. Him and Jimbo never really got along, but at the same time they did. They would be acting like enemies one second and the next, they’re bonding over stuff like hockey. It was a weird dynamic.
“Gerardy? This is your date?” Jimbo turned to Hiccups. “I’m sorry, miss, but you could do so much better.”
Hiccups simply shrugged, not saying a single word. She made a step towards him, a small enough step that neither of the two cops noticed. But he did. He scooted up forward in the seat so when she did, she would have an easier time getting on.
“What’s that supposed to mean, Dumbo?” Jagger scoffed. The two went back and forth arguing for about a minute about the extreme distaste the two had for each other, until he noticed her.
She was close enough now to just swing her leg over the bike.
“Well, unfortunately, boys,” She spoke, her butt landed on the seat of the bike and he revved the engine. Her hands, still cuffed behind her, held onto the grip bar on the back of the seat. “It’s time for us to continue with our date. Still got lots planned, don’t wanna waste all the energy here, you know what I mean?”
And with that, the two sped off, leaving the officers to scramble to their own vehicles. She tried her best to balance herself as he rounded the corners. He probably felt her unsteady and his arm instinctively reached behind him cupping around her hip and lower back to make sure she didn’t over lean when they turned. His touch on her clothed body felt like a jolt of electricity and the fear of being in need of more started seeping into her mind.
“Hold on,” He said over his shoulder. Her grip tightened on the handle bar and they parked in an alley, still fairly near the Canals. He turned off the engine “I can’t risk you falling off.”
She looked at him, confused, before he helped her off the bike. Oh…She shook the thought away. She saw him take out the lockpick from his pocket and nodded at her.
Hiccups didn’t move.
“Do you want those cuffs off or not, Hiccups?” He said her name in a way that she didn’t want to admit she reveled in. Hesitantly, she turned to where she was now facing the wall and her back was to him. She felt the tips of his fingers brushed against her arm, down to her wrists.
She felt herself swallow and tried to avoid the thought of him kneeling in front of (or in this case behind) her. Now’s not the fucking time. He must’ve leaned closer to her because she felt his breath on her skin.
After what seemed to be hours, she finally felt the metal around her wrists loosen and she heard him stand.
“I thought you said you only get arrested if you’re washed,” He mocked her as she turned to face him, massaging her wrists. She rolled her eyes, but before she could defend herself, voices of officers ripped them away from their own conversation.
In a panic, he instinctively pushed her back up against the wall, both of his arms caging her in. Their bodies pressed together, like puzzle pieces. She felt her breath hitch as her face was nearly buried in his neck, his scent engulfing her entirely. The sharp scene of cedar wood with a hint of a leathery undertone filled her and she had to fight everything in her not to go weak kneed. She felt his own heart pound against hers and she so desperately wanted to tell hers to shut the fuck up.
The cops jogged past where they were hiding and he pinned himself to her more, using his arm to cover their faces. Thank God her face was hidden because the heat that was rising to her cheeks would have made her look like she got sunburnt from sitting in the sun for at least 24 hours. Her mask began to lift slightly as his face leaned against the ears and she raised her hand to securely adjust it. He must have felt her move and he suddenly jolted back, clearing his throat. His lasting impression on her skin nearly made her implode. She really shouldn’t be thinking these things.
“Sorry,” He croaked out. He couldn’t see, but she bit her lip under the mask.
“It’s okay,” She shook her head, reassuring him. It really was—shut UP! “If you didn’t, we would’ve for sure gotten caught.”
After an awkward pause, she pulled out the spin wheel from her small bag. “Next.”
This time, it landed on ‘Hide ‘n Seek @ the Funhouse’.
“The Funhouse?” He looked at her. “The big farmhouse up in Grapeseed?”
“Yup,” She returned the wheel. “Meeting place for the Clowns. We host a ton of games around the land.” He had been around the area before, even saw this building, but had no idea it belonged to the Clowns. Then again, he never sought a reason to go there. He admired it from afar.
Jagger released the kickstand of the bike and hopped on, then realized they needed helmets. Grapeseed was a good 20-30 minutes away from the city and going on the Freeway during rush hour wasn’t the most ideal. There was a clothing store nearby where they would sell helmets.
He pulled up to the Binco and she gave him a confused look when he got off the motorcycle again after turning off the bike.
“Wait here,” He told her before running through the doors. She took the time to send a mass text to the Clowns to prepare for the game. Minutes later, he came out with a helmet in hand and another under his arm. Both were a sleek, glossy black, but one had glowing cat ears. She raised an intrigued eyebrow as she let out a puff of air. He handed her the one with the cat ears. “Safety first.”
“Um,” She stared at the helmet. “I can’t.”
“I don’t care how confident you are or how much plot armor you have, Hiccups,” Jagger insisted. “I’m not blasting down the freeway at 160mph and you don’t have this on. Put on the yuckin’ helmet.”
She took the protective gear in her hands. “Turn around.”
“What?”
“Turn around. I have to take my mask off.”
Oh. He did as he was told, almost tempted to peek, but he knew it would only lead to him being hospitalized.
“Okay,” She confirmed. He turned around to see the helmet placed on her head and her bunny mask dangling on her forearm like a bag. Getting back on the bike, she followed his suit. Her mind fought to where she should place her hands. On the handle bar? Around his waist?
The engine sputtered awake, popping and purring as he revved. It was almost as if he sensed her hesitancy to put her hands on him because he made the bike lurch forward and she had no choice but to hug him from behind out of reflex. She felt his body vibrate as he laughed at her body suddenly going still at the contact.
“Fucking Gang Banger,” She muttered.
“Hang on tight, Cups.” Her fingers gripped his suit jacket as they left the parking area, towards Grapeseed.